


Intercalate Time

by 7Savage7LS



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, BAMF Stiles, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Minor Character Death, Nogitsune's name is Yami, Other, Past Derek Hale/Paige, Slow Build, Stiles and the Nogitsune have a weird friendship, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Trust Issues, Young Derek Hale, Young Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 17:34:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22347268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/7Savage7LS/pseuds/7Savage7LS
Summary: Stiles travels back in time to when the Hale fire started. Paige's death, and Kate Argent. Twist? The Nogitsune is stuck in his mind - to add to that, he can't possess Stiles by his own free will.Getting close to the Hale pack is what Stiles would like to avoid in case of fucking up time if they happen to meet him in the future. It's difficult when things keep trying to bring him and Derek together.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Paige, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Nogitsune & Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 26
Kudos: 318





	1. Prologue

The sword pushed through the flesh as the Nogitsune felt teeth sink into his arm. He screamed. This was it. Centuries, he waited. He waited for the time he would be free. Centuries, he would wait again…or perhaps an eternity? Maybe he would never be free again. When it felt like everything for him was over, that’s when he felt it. He felt like he was a star ready to implode. He felt like the vacuum of space was sucking him from the inside. One moment he was there and the next…vanished.

Stiles clutched his head. His teeth ground against each other and his legs felt numb. Everything…everything felt numb. Arms desperately clawed at his scalp, trying to find an opening – trying to find an opening to his mind – trying to split his skull to reach in and pull out whatever was growing inside. _That was when he felt it. He felt like he was a star ready to implode. One moment he was there and the next…vanished._


	2. 1: Truce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and the Nogitsune figure out where (rather when) they are. They come to a truce as they decide that they should try changing things to return to where they came from.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure how regularly I'll update this but hey, I won't abandon this. I have it all planned out. And I like the idea of a Stiles & Nogitsune friendship. My last Teen Wolf fanfiction was abandoned because I wasn't sure where I was going with it; I kind of just jumped in headfirst off the swing set. bad idea.
> 
> This time, it's different. I know where I'll be taking this story. Sorry that my writing is the best. My attempts at dialogue will also be pretty pitiful too since I'm an even worse conversationalist than Derek. If you ask me how I am, I will stare at you like you're an idiot. I have dry humour and childish humour too. Overused things still get me. I also swat my friends; that's how I show my affection. I'll try my best to write interactions, though. Don't expect it to be entertaining, though.
> 
> I went and listed things I do so that I could work that into some people's behaviour, I guess. That has to count for something, right? Do I get brownie points?
> 
> Also, the first few chapters will focus on Stiles and the Nogitsune. It's mainly because Stiles needs a job and place to stay and then figure out how to enrol at a school when he doesn't have birth certificates or doctor certificates.
> 
> Then there will be Kate-Argent-attacking (as in I will attack her) so look forward to that.
> 
> Anyway, I'll try to make this story entertaining and engaging? I'll wish myself luck.

Darkness parted, revealing a blurred image. Stiles couldn’t make out what it was. His ears were ringing and he could feel blood rushing to his head. He wouldn’t move. It wasn’t that he couldn’t. Stiles chose to lie there. He chose to stay curled up with his head pressed against his knees which were wrapped in his arms.

Minutes passed. How many? Stiles couldn’t tell. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t hear. He could feel. And all he could feel was a splitting headache. But Stiles could tell it was starting to fade away – the pain. As the feeling faded, he felt his senses coming back to him. He felt the cold floor of the school. He saw the lockers in the reflection of moonlight. The scent of sweat, perfume and _teenagers_ was stilled in the air. The warm, metallic flavor of blood was strong in his mouth. There was little of it, but it was the only taste lingering in his mouth and on his tongue as it swept through the crevices of his teeth. Something was off, though. If Stiles could still think properly, which he was certain he could, he was fighting the Nogitsune and now…where were the voices of his friends? Stiles looked around. Where were Scott and Lydia and Kira?

Not only that but he could feel another presence. A presence within him. A familiar presence. And he knew what it was. The Nogitsune.  
Stiles panicked, “What are you doing in my head? Get out! Get out of me!”  
Tears pricked his eyes. He punched one of the lockers in frustration.  
 ** _“Stiles.”  
_** A sob reached through his throat, “What do you want from me?! Where’s Scott? Where’s Lydia? Where’s Kira? What did you do to them?!”  
 ** _“Stiles,” it repeated. “Look around you. Pay close attention. What do you see?”  
_** “What do you mean?” Stiles tried to compose himself. “We’re in the school.”  
 ** _“Pay close attention.”_**

Stiles scrutinized his surroundings under the dim lighting. Then he started noticing things. The lockers were clean. There were no tags or blue tack on them. No small graffiti decorated the walls or ceiling. The floor had less dirt – it looked cleaner. The lights – they were different; you could see the bulbs. A hole from where the security camera used to be were no longer there. Everything looked older but…brand new?

**_"What do you notice?”  
_** “Everything’s different. It looks cleaner. What did you do?”  
 ** _“Me?” it said with feigned hurt, “Aw, Stiles. It hurts that you assume that this is my doing.” It paused. “What do you think happened?”  
_** “How should I know? I don’t understand anything. I don’t know where the others went, I don’t know why the school looks different. Maybe Scott, a werewolf, magically erased himself and Lydia and Kira, and left me with you, in a cheap rip-off of Beacon Hills High School! Of course, it’s your fault!” Stiles exclaimed, exasperated.  
 ** _“Time travel.”  
_** Stiles blinked a few times and stuttered as he said, “How? What makes you think that?”  
 ** _“Everything’s different. We can feel it. We can feel everything. It feels like a rip – like a slight tug every now and then on my spirit, as though I’m a flower among leaves, trying to be plucked. We’re out of place, Stiles.”  
_** “Great. That’s just amazing, you know? You feel like you’re being _tugged_ so that must mean you’re in the past and not just playing tug-of-war with the universe,” Stiles said and grimaced at the thought of what goes on in the Nogitsune’s mind.  
 ** _“If you don’t believe us, go outside, Stiles.”  
_** Stiles shook his head, disbelieving. He walked forward, and hesitantly opened the door. He kept walking until he made it to the school’s border and climbed over the fence. The street was quiet with a few cars. He started walking to the hospital. Then he was speed-walking. Then he was jogging. Then he was running. Then he was sprinting.

Stiles arrived at the front of the hospital. There it was again. Everything looked newer, cleaner. He walked through the automatic doors and took the elevator to Melissa’s floor. The elevator stopped and he rushed out the open doors and to the desk. A woman with dark brown hair was at the desk, typing away on the computer. It was Melissa. But her skin was smoother. Her hair was shorter. There were less wrinkles. And she was younger. Stiles’ hands were shaking slightly. He didn’t want to believe it. He couldn’t.

Melissa’s eyes moved from the computer screen and were fixed on him. She smiled.  
“Do you need anything?” she asked him.  
She didn’t say his name. She didn’t expect something to be wrong with Scott or with him. Melissa reacted as if he wasn’t just possessed by the Nogitsune not too long ago. Stiles stared at her, mouth agape and eyebrows drawn together.  
He swallowed, “Uh, no. Sorry. Sorry for bothering you.”  
Stiles turned away from her and made his way out of the hospital. She didn’t remember him.

Stiles sat down outside the hospital, by the sign out further. He leaned against it with his knees pulled to his chest.  
 ** _The Nogitsune clicked its tongue, “What are you going to do?”  
_** Stiles bit his lip.  
“Don’t say that as if I’m the only one stuck in the past. You are too.”  
 ** _“Yeah, but I can split up from you and figure out how to get myself back rather than help you.”  
  
_**

“Then why haven’t you already split up from me?” Stiles growled.  
 ** _“I had to enjoy the look on your face. It’s beautiful, really. Don’t worry, Stiles. We’ll meet again.”  
_** Stiles felt the pull on his mind. He almost felt sad about the Nogitsune leaving, but he shoved away that feeling. He was only sad because the only one who actually knew what was going on apart from him would be gone.

Despite the pull on his mind, nothing happened. It stopped.  
 ** _“I’ll admit, this is unexpected. Guess we’ll be living together for a while, Stiles.”  
_** Stiles couldn’t tell if the Nogitsune was pleased or furious. Both, then.  
“What are you talking about?”  
 ** _“I can’t leave. Whatever sent us to the past also merged my spirit with your mind. It’s unfortunate that you’ll be the last body I possess, but you’re my favorite of my hosts.”  
_** “Then you have to help me get back to the present,” Stiles hid the hopeful tone.  
 ** _“No.”_**

****

Stiles closed his eyes and entered his mindscape. _It was a white room twice the size of his bedroom with marble tiles. Pictures were framed on the walls, but other than that, it was empty. On one side of the room, there were six doors. Each door was different. In front of him, stood the Nogitsune, smirking with an evil glint in his eyes. The Nogitsune was in Stiles’ form. Unsurprising since he’s been talking with Stiles’ voice this entire time. Stiles was angry. He was sad. He was lost. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe in his physical form or in his mindscape. His air supply just cut off. Stiles fell to his knees and shut his eyes as tight as he could._

Stiles screamed. He banged his head against his fists and tears still managed to squeeze through his closed eyelids. They trickled, antagonizing, down his face. He started shouting at the spirit in his head. Stiles didn’t know what he was saying, didn’t know what words were spewing out of his mouth but he was angry. He was scared.

Taking a deep breath, Stiles calmed down, eyes still shut. He pictured the mindscape and saw the Nogitsune standing there, looking around with confusion. _His mindscape was now pitch black, except for the doors – the doors which had chains encasing them and layers peeling off slowly.  
“Do you get that? Do you understand?” he said in his mind.  
The Nogitsune raised a brow at him and then said, “Do I get what?”  
Stiles frowned. Was the Nogitsune messing with him? But then again, everything in his mindscape was different. Then a thought played in Stiles’ mind – a thought that didn’t show. _

_A door appeared in front of Stiles, between him and the Nogitsune. A new door. Then it clicked: the chains, the darkness, the new door._

_“You don’t have access to my senses or my thoughts,” Stiles deduced. “If you ever want chaos to come, you need that freedom. If we get back to the present, you’ll most likely be freed.”  
“And if I’m not?”  
“We’ll figure out a way to get you out. We’re in the past. We must have been sent here for a reason, right?”  
“No,” the Nogitsune disagreed. “That’s not always the case. It could have been random.”  
Stiles pursed his lips.  
“Do you know what year this is?”  
“We’re about a decade back.”  
“So the early 2000s. What happened then?” Stiles mumbled to himself._

Stiles racked his brain for any memories. He would have been around eight years old. His mother passed when he was eight. It’s unlikely, but possible. There wasn’t much else that happened that he would have been _sent to the past_ to fix. At least, not for himself. Stiles tried to think about the others but he and Lydia would have met or would meet soon. But there was nothing he had to change for Lydia around this time. Scott? Scott’s fine too; he had been born with asthma and asthma isn’t even a problem for him anymore. Stiles didn’t really know about Allison. She’s dead now anyway. Changing something now won’t make a difference. Allison figured it out. That led to her death. He’d have to be closer to the present to change that. Derek? Derek had…the fire. Derek’s family was killed when Derek was 16. It could be that too.

**_“You left the mindscape. If we’re helping you, Stiles, we need to hear your thoughts too. You need to open the doors,” it disrupted his thinking.  
_** “If you’re helping me, you need to quit with this ‘we’ crap. Say ‘I’. It’s creepy. Also, I don’t know _how_ to open the doors. Are they still chained?”  
 ** _“No.”  
_** “Have you tried opening them?”  
 ** _“What do you think?”  
_** “Right, stupid question to ask a super smart fox spirit,” he said quickly. “Uh…how do I open them?”  
 ** _“Focus.”  
_** Stiles rolled his eyes.  
“Hm,” he hummed. “On what?”  
 ** _“Picture the doors open. Imagine yourself opening them. As you do, try to get your feelings across. Feelings are stronger to sense than your five main senses. If you open one door, you’ll have a better understanding on how to open the rest of them.”  
  
_**

_‘Alright, Stiles. Imagine opening the doors. And…uh, feelings. My feelings.’  
Stiles’ hand was on the knob of the door. This door had a picture of the brain on it. It probably had his memories too, then. He attempted to twist the knob, but it wouldn’t budge. There was no keyhole, either._

“I can’t open it,” Stiles told the Nogitsune.  
 ** _“You only tried twisting it. If that was a door in reality and you were trying to get in, what would you do?”  
_** Stiles nodded, not that the Nogitsune could see him.

_The hearing door was in front of Stiles. It’s probably best to start with an easier door (not that Stiles can tell if one’s more difficult; he’s just taking the Nogitsune’s word for it but he has nothing to lose so it’s fine). He’s Stiles. Usually, if he tried to break into a room, he’d have a werewolf with heightened strength. But this is the mind, and as Einstein said, “Imagination is more important than knowledge.”_

_Gripping the metal bat tightly, Stiles swung at the door. Splinters off wood flew through the air and Stiles shielded his eyes. After a moment, he looked at the damage and half the door had been taken out. Stiles grinned to himself. He’s not so weak as long as he has the baseball bat. The metal baseball bat that wouldn’t break (unlike the wooden one)._

_The grin dropped from Stiles’ face when he turned to the Nogitsune.  
“So do I do this for all the doors?” he asked it.  
“The more shielded your mind is, the tougher it will be to break in. Starting with the five senses will make it easier. Remember to keep trying to reach out with your emotions,” the Nogitsune said with boredom.  
If the Nogitsune wasn’t a psychopath, he would make a great teacher with that millennia of experience and knowledge._

_Stiles moved to the next door: taste. He bashed the door open. Same with the sight, touch and smell doors – they were easy. Every door had the same thing behind it, an empty, white room. Now he had to figure out how to open the feelings and thoughts door – the more private departments._

_Stiles tried the baseball bat first. When it didn’t work, he kept beating the doors with it anyway, expecting the Nogitsune to maybe lecture him or tell him he’s stupid but now that Stiles thinks about it, the kitsune is most likely enjoying watching Stiles waste his efforts just like the sadist he is._

_Stiles stopped. Brute force wouldn’t work with this door.  
‘These doors are guarded according to me. I can’t pick the lock either, since there is no lock to be picked. How else does someone open a door?’ he asked himself.  
“So brute force won’t work. Do you have any ideas or are you content just sitting there taking pleasure from my struggles?” he said, sarcasm lacing his tone.  
The Nogitsune grinned, as if (definitely) considering it.  
“Stiles,” it cooed. Was he cooing? “You’re smart. There is more than one way to skin a cat.”  
“Yeah, but I’m not skinning a cat. I’m opening a door – a door that you can only open three ways which are picking the lock, breaking it down or twisting the knob, and none of those have worked!” Stiles sighed exasperatedly.  
“Forcing a door down doesn’t have to be brutal.”  
“There’s another way to force it open without breaking it,” Stiles noted. “What? Do I weaken it or something? How would I do that without having to try and break it down?”_

_The Nogitsune cocked its head to the side and got up from the pure white tiles.  
“This may take a while, Stiles. These doors are the most intimate ones. Having access to someone’s thought is intruding on everything that a human can’t control. Humans can control what they say but it’s hard to control what you think. You can’t help feelings either. Your thoughts and feelings are what someone truly has on something.”  
“So over time, the doors will weaken as I…come to trust you,” he concluded slowly.  
“Yes.”  
Stiles narrowed his eyes, lips pursed.  
“First of all, don’t refer to us as ‘humans’.”  
“But that’s what you are?”_

_“Second of all,” Stiles said forcefully, “you said to never trust a fox.”  
“‘Never’ meaning at no time. Since we arrived here, I haven’t led you astray, have I? Let me help you.”  
“Yeah, but that’s all part of your evil Doofenshmirtz plan, and I’m Perry the Platypus, who gets a lot less credit than what he deserves!” Stiles ranted.  
“Then I won’t help you,” the Nogitsune said nonchalantly.  
“Hey!” Stiles exclaimed. “We’re stuck in this together. If you want your freedom back then you have to help me.”  
“Then let me help you,” it repeated._

_“Fine!” Stiles threw his hands up, giving in. “But we need to set ground rules.” The Nogitsune shrugged. “And we’ll get to that right after I find a piece of paper. You know what? I’m going to laminate a list of rules and hang it in every room for you. Rule number one: stop talking using ‘we’ and ‘us’. Number two: actually help me out instead of being a sadistic bastard.” The Nogitsune raised a brow. “Number three: we are going to put locks on these doors!”  
The Nogitsune wore an amused expression when he said, “Doesn’t rule number one say that you and I can’t talk using ‘we’ and ‘us’?”  
Stiles looked at him disbelievingly, “Are you serious? Don’t give me that crap. You know what I mean. You talk like there’s two of you and it’s plain creepy.” _

_Stiles cleared his throat, “Anyway, rule number four…” Stiles waved his arms around frantically. “…you…what do I call you? Do…do I call you No? Nogi? Nogi-chan?” Stiles put on his best pansy attitude when the Nogitsune frowned at him. “Oh, stop it, you! Oh my God, I can use honorifics. I took Japanese in middle school.”  
“I wasn’t…” the Nogitsune gave him a look. “I do have a name.”  
Stiles jumped in his dramatic fashion.  
“Seriously?!”  
The Nogitsune rolled its eyes, “Yes, seriously. But with Nogitsune, only family can call them by their name.”  
“Well, there you go!” Stiles smiled. “Our first step towards an everlasting friendship!”  
The Nogitsune had this expression like he wanted to hit Stiles but Stiles is sure that isn’t the case.  
“My name is Yami.”  
“Heh, that sounds like yummy. Can I call you Yummy instead?” Stiles received a glare for that. Stiles is keeping track of all the glares he can get in tallies to remind him of his worth to the Nogitsune – Yami. He’s the most bloody annoying person the Nogitsune…Yami will know and that thought will give Stiles restless nights. “Or Yami as in Yami Yugi from ‘Yu-Gi-Oh!’?”  
“Yami as in Yami.”  
“Sure thing, Yami. Wow, this is so weird. I know your name. That’s weird. Are we friends?”  
“No. The only reason I’m being nice is for my own good.”  
“No, no. That’s no right. What you’re being is a ‘Derek Hale’. You know, brooding 97 percent of the time and sad the other three percent.”_

_“You think we’re back in this time to stop the fire.”  
It wasn’t a question.  
“Yes!” Stiles said as if it was obvious.  
Yami huffed, “Save some people? Give up the life you have in the present? Even small changes can avalanche into disaster and you want to rescue the entire Hale pack? Am I rubbing off on you, Stiles?” he said with a (sadistic) smile.  
“Yes. You said you weren’t lying to me when you said you didn’t send us back; I trusted you. It’s your turn to trust me. That’s how healthy relationships work. Plus, there’s no way we were sent back here to this time to not rescue them. Or rescue someone!”  
“I already told you. I don’t like repeating myself. There’s no lead to say that we were sent here for a reason. We don’t even know what exact year it is.”  
  
_

Stiles dug through his hoodie pockets for his phone. The phone turned on. Stiles squinted. On the screen, the date was displayed as 30th July, 2004.  
“The Hale fire was when Derek was 16. He was born the 7th of November, 1988. Props to me for snooping and finding his ID card,” Stiles boasted. “He’ll be…15 years old right now,” he calculated. He heaved a breath of relief, “We can still save the Hale family!”

**_“But,” Yami crooned, “we won’t be able to save your mother. That's funny. She only passed a few weeks ago, too."  
_** Stiles winced and chewed his lip.  
 _‘That’s right. It’s too late.’  
 **“Yeah, that’s a shame. You could have had both your parents. Instead you’re sent to the time after she died to save someone else’s family. That doesn’t seem fair.”  
**_ Stiles didn’t reply.  
 ** _“If she had survived, your father might like you more – might hate you a little less – and you could have had a loving mother. But no, you have the chance to save Derek’s family instead,” he spat out Derek’s name in disgust. “Why can’t you have what you want for once? Why can’t you be the one…”  
_** “SHUT UP!”  
People nearby looked over at the crying boy huddled close to the sign because of his outburst. They looked to each other and failed-to-discreetly pretend nothing happened and one of the girls hustled her friends, gossiping amongst themselves as they did.

**_The Nogitsune chuckled, “That’s right. We should get going. Can’t spend the night outside.”  
_** Stiles wiped the tears away and remained still for a few more minutes. He staggered to get up, using the sign to support his weight. The moon was marching across the sky, leading its army of stars. Goosebumps ran along Stiles’ arms despite the hoodie and his feet felt like ice. Shivers traveled along his spine.  
“Where? We should get going where?” Stiles snapped.  
 ** _“Find an alleyway. We’ll spend the night there and when you’re ready in the morning, we can think this out.”_**

****

Stiles walked until he found a fairly quiet street. Avoiding drug dealers would be great right now. Gangs, too. They were pretty big in the 2000s and Stiles had enough shit on his plate to eat. Stiles turned left, into a dark alley which was dimly let at the entrance by the streetlights.

****

Stiles walked over to the cardboard boxes beside the garbage bins. At least, he thought they were. It was still dark, streetlights or no streetlights. He picked one up and the bottom opened, releasing a rat that scampered away. Stiles startled.  
“Oh my God!”  
He was traumatized. That was a traumatic experience. The rest of his nightmares will consist of rats. His nightmares of the kanima? The kanima is now a human-sized rat with an anthropomorphic head. You see, they both have claws and a tail, so it makes sense. Kate Argent? Same as the kanima. Alpha pack? They’re now an alpha pack of rat-kanimas.

Throwing the box away in fear of catching rat diseases, Stiles decided he wouldn’t bother with the rest. Stiles wiped his hands on his leggings as he sat on the filth-covered concrete, leaning against the brick wall which had little bits pricking the back of his head like needles.

“Will you keep watch?” Stiles asked after a few moments of silence.  
 ** _“Keep watch for the rats?” Yami teased.  
_** Stiles grumbled, “Shut up.”  
He shifted to a position on his side, using his arm as a pillow with his legs curled close to his torso. Stiles rubbed at the dried tear spots surrounding his eyes and rubbed his cold nose.  
 ** _“Yeah.”_** Stiles smiled softly. He could finally sleep without having to worry about anything at the moment. He could worry about a place to stay tomorrow. He could worry about the Derek tomorrow. He could worry about the mind-doors tomorrow. It can all wait for later. **_That is until Yami said, “I’ll protect you from the rats.”_**

****

If Stiles could hit him now…he wouldn’t. The Nogitsune would beat his ass if he did. However, that’s not the case and Yami doesn’t have a physical form. Knowing for certain that the Nogitsune would keep his word, Stiles drifted into a soundless sleep for the first time in weeks.


	3. 2: Residence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles applies for a job and meets someone who is willing to provide a place for him to stay.

Sunlight poured through the narrow gap of the alley, spreading across pale skin. Stiles slowly blinked his way to consciousness. He remained still, confused until it eventually came back to him. Ah, time travel. Such a wonderful experience.  
“Yami? You awake?” Stiles called groggily.  
 ** _“I didn’t sleep. Kept watch.”  
_** “Ah, thank you,” Stiles goofily grinned, “my partner in crime.”

Stiles expected the Nogitsune to retort with something like ‘whatever’ or ‘shut up’ or _something_ but he didn’t.  
 ** _“You didn’t get this friendly with Peter.”  
_** He thought about it – Stiles.  
“Well,” he said, “you don’t give me creeper vibes. I mean, you do…but you can’t do anything to me…yet.”  
 ** _“Such little faith in me, Stiles. Ouch.”  
_** “Hey, last night, you were being all sadistic on me, enjoying my pain.”  
 ** _“Compromise, Stiles. Compromise. I feed off it. Do you like being hungry?”  
  
_**

“No,” Stiles pouted. “Speaking of which,” he lit up like a lantern, “I’m hungry. Pretty sure all I have is a maybe thirty bucks.” He dug through the pockets on his leggings. Stiles pulled the wallet up to his face and snatched out two 20s. “How am I meant to survive? Nogi, I’m homeless!”  
 ** _“Get a job. Get the cheapest apartment you can find. Enroll at Beacon Hills High. Work on trusting me, too. Make sure Derek doesn’t get close to Kate. Get rid of Kate, preferably. Even I don’t like her. She’s…weird.”  
_** Stiles snorted, “That’s all you’ve got?” Stiles dusted off his side as he stood up and peeked around the corners so that people didn’t mistake him for a hobo, not that it really mattered. He made a run for it, and stopped at the intersection, spotting the restaurant. “There! My curly fries heaven!” He then mentally slapped himself to be reminded that Yami isn’t physically there and so he looks like a mental person or just a crazy teen.

There were no cars left or right.  
 _‘Fuck it,’_ Stiles thought.  
He dashed across the road – twice.

Stiles pushed open the doors to the restaurant and waited in the non-existent queue just for the sake of it. Nah, it’s just that in the present, it’s usually busier. This one is practically empty; a few people were littered outside and a couple holding hands in the corner. Stiles smiled at the woman at the counter and walked up to her.

“Hey, how are you today?” she politely greeted him with a smile.  
“Could be better. It’s been hectic,” Stiles rubbed the back of his neck with a grimace, “so what better way to take a break than a bowl of curly fries and a chocolate frappé?”  
Stiles pulled out a ten-dollar note. She lightly chuckled as she wrote down his order.  
“That’s $6.50.”  
Stiles handed her the money and she gave him the change.

Stiles sat in a booth by one of the windows. He picked at his nails, which were growing too long for his liking, not that it was his biggest issue right now. Stiles connected with his mindscape.

_Yami was sitting cross-legged on the floor, leaning his head against the wall.  
“You can go crazy in 72 hours with nothing to do,” Stiles commented.  
The Nogitsune quirked an eyebrow with an expression that screamed boredom.  
“I’m an evil spirit. I’m a master of the mind – I’m sure than I can occupy myself.”  
Stiles looked around. Nothing had changed.  
“The door – for thought – it means verbal thoughts, right?”  
“Yeah. Anything you imagine in this space, you have full control over. The thoughts room will be all your verbal thoughts and stuff.”  
Stiles nodded, “OK. Do you want…I don’t know…a deck of cards? Couch? Basketball hoop? Imaginary friend?”  
Yami looked away from him, turning his attention to the wall again.  
“Do whatever you want.”_

_Stiles, opened his mouth, then closed it, hesitating.  
“That’s cool,” he said dumbly.  
‘A couch. Make it homey. Music, a phone. Imagine the functions, Stiles. Imagine them working. Think of how they work.’  
As he was imagining everything, they started appearing – the couch, phone, air-conditioning, hammock, black walls, shaggy rugs, a giant lava lamp on the other end of the room, and dull lights._

_Yami squinted at him as he scrutinized the details. It was nice and dark.  
“My Mom worked with disabled people. She used to take me with her to work, and sometimes Scott would come too,” Stiles smiled in reminiscence. “This looked like the separate room. Except there was this hanging chair thing instead of a hammock.”  
Yami stared at Stiles as if he was trying to read him.  
“Stop living in the past. Grow up.”  
Stiles glared at him.  
“Enjoy.”  
It was the last thing Stiles said before leaving his mindscape._

Perfect timing, too, since the lady at the counter served him the fries and frappé. Stiles offered her another smile and pulled out his phone when she left. Best start looking for a job. He should also enroll at Beacon Hills soon.

After stuffing his hand into the bowl and coming up with a handful of curly fries, he shoved them into his mouth. Stiles opened Google on his phone, the salt on the fries making his mouth water. He took a sip from his frappé as he typed ‘part time jobs’ into the search bar. He clicked on a website and began scrolling through the options.

Stiles reached for his wallet and pulled out a receipt.  
 _‘Pen, pen, where could you be?’_ he wondered as he stuffed his hands into his pockets and then leggings even though he knew that he didn’t have a pen on him. He sighed.

Then Stiles remembered that the woman working here had a pen. He pocketed his wallet and wore an awkward smile as he walked up to her the second time.  
“Sorry to bother you, but can I borrow a pen?” he asked.  
“Sure!”  
She opened one of the drawers and rolled a blue pen across the counter to him. Stiles thanked her.

Stiles returned to his seat then continued reading through the jobs.  
 _‘Bookkeeper, on the list you go.’_ He scrawled it on the blank side of the receipt. _‘Online tutor, Macca’s, school photographer, accent advisor for American? I could totally do that. OK. What have we got?’_ Stiles thought about the fact that he is not teaching material. At all. He crossed off ‘online tutor’ and ‘accent advisor’. That’s a shame. _‘People at McDonald’s make shit. No. Goodbye. School photographer or bookkeeper? School photography will take time during school, though, so no. Bookkeeper it is. Ugh, time to write a resume.’_

Stiles sat still, mind blank.  
 _‘OK. OK. Wait, what was I thinking about? I’m supposed to do something.’_ Stiles slapped his face. _‘I need my Adderall, dammit. Uh. I was looking for jobs. Resume. Write a resume, that’s it.’  
_ He’d have to go to the library to use the computers.

After finishing his frappé and fries, Stiles navigated his way to the library. Did the library have public computer use? He missed Roscoe. Now he has to walk everywhere. In fact, it took an hour of walking in the scorching sun of summer until he could finally walk into the Planet of Aircon. What is this town? The desert? Hot at day time, freezing your balls off at night? No.

The library was relatively empty and there was only one person occupying one of the computers. Stiles chose the computer in the corner. He moved the mouse around a bit and the screen opened with the logo.

Stiles opened the website and clicked on the link to the job site. He opened a word document and paused for a moment.  
 _‘Name, contact info, introduce myself, list my strengths, educational background, career overview…is nonexistent. Yay. Maybe I should apply for McDonald’s. I’ll need to “lie” about high school. Let’s just hope they don’t contact the school. This is such an awful plan…but my awful plans always work. Yes, that’s the spirit.’_

Holding his breath, Stiles typed in the last few words and saved the documents. He leaned back in the chair, running his hands through his hair and swiping his tongue along his dry lips.  
“Yes!” he cheered as he stood up, pumping his fist in the air.  
The other person on the opposite side, a few seats down stared at him. Stiles pressed his lips into a thin line.

“This is a library. Be quiet,” the man said with annoyance.  
Stiles couldn’t quite place his finger on it, but the man’s voice, the way he spoke – it was so familiar. The guy had dark brown hair, full lips, blue eyes. Nope. Didn’t ring a bell.  
In his head, Stiles asked himself, _‘Do I know him in the future?’  
_ “Right.” Stiles averted his eyes. “Sorry.”

Opening google mail, Stiles emailed it to his phone and submitted it to the site. His eyes widened as he realized something. His phone number probably wouldn’t work in this time. It’s a good thing he added his email. They’ll probably send him an email before trying to call him.

Stiles closed the tabs and put the computer on sleep. He stared at the black screen. What was he supposed to do now? He could contact Beacon Hills High. However, he needed some form of proof of his identity – a birth certificate, passport…his driver’s license which he actually had on him. The only problem was that he needed to alter his date of birth and issue date.

Yet, Stiles couldn’t just ask people to alter his birth date on his card. That would be like driving a tank through LA on the road. Someone would call the police. He’d have to make his own ID card. Not a driver’s license; he doesn’t have a vehicle and that’s really something he couldn’t do anything about. Police actually check the authenticity on the system. Typically, you didn’t need a birth certificate to apply for a state high school. You know, typically. You only need one if you didn’t enroll in primary school or middle school, or if you time traveled and happen to need to go to school to get in contact with people regularly without getting all in their business.

Stiles banged his head on the desk. All this thinking was hurting his head. He decided to take a walk; see what’s different about this Beacon Hills compared to the one in the future. He could clear his head.

The preserve was to the left of Stiles. He’d have to go around it to reach the nearer outskirts of town. He didn’t want to bump into Derek like last time. But according to Peter, Derek wasn’t as salty back in the days. Still, better safe than sorry. Stiles finally reached a turning point and changed direction: left.

Stiles didn’t know how long he had been walking down the path. He just focused on the repetitive motion of his steps. One foot after another, again and again and again. Finally, he looked up. The trees were looming high above him, but the growth was thinning, and he could tell that he was coming to a clearing. Stiles heaved a sigh of relief. He could feel the aching in his legs, his feet were becoming sore, and sweat was trickling down his back and head, and collecting in his arm pits.

Stiles could hear the faint sounds of cars and a garbage truck stopping every fives seconds with a loud steaming noise. It was growing louder and louder, and he could eventually hear people. Stiles could hear the turning of a bike chain as he walked into the opening. Wait.

“Ah! Watch out!” the voice of an old woman warned him.  
Stiles watched in horror as she swerved to the right. The bicycle fell with her, scattering contents of the food bags, and she emitted a pained groan.  
“Oh my God!” Stiles said as he kneeled next to her.  
“Don’t just come out of nowhere like that!” she scolded him, and Stiles noticed the pain and concern in her voice.  
“I’m really sorry,” Stiles apologized.  
He supported her neck with an arm as he pushed the groceries that had fallen back into the bag and into the basket on the bicycle.

News played on the television, the squealing of a kettle from the kitchen backing the talking on the TV. Stiles awkwardly sat on the couch by the coffee table. Stiles contemplated if he should say something.  
“Are you sure it’s OK for me to stay here?” he asked guiltily.  
The elderly woman – Amanita, Stiles had learned – waved him off. Amanita was a Japanese woman, spending her retirement in the neighboring town of Beacon Hills.  
“It’s fine,” said Amanita. “After all, you helped me home.” Stiles debated if he should mention that it was his fault and that he owed her, but he kept his mouth shut despite the guilt that was pitted in his stomach.

“You’re welcome to stay as long as you want, hear me?” she said with a motherly tone.  
Stiles smiled gratefully at her. She walked over with a pot of tea and set a tea mug on top of the coaster lying on the coffee table. Amanita walked back over to the kitchen and returned with a jar of sugar and a teaspoon. Stiles thanked her and scooped a small amount of sugar into his cup. He poured the tea in and stirred it.

“Thank you…so much. Really. You have no idea how much you’re helping me,” Stiles said sadly.  
In a world where you have no family, no proof of birth or identification, you are nonexistent. You have no power. You’ll constantly be committing crimes in an attempt to survive. To the world, you are dead, and with time, you won’t last.

“Um…I know that I’m definitely in no position to be asking this…” Stiles started, “but can I have your help enrolling at Beacon Hills High?” She cocked her head to the side slightly. Quickly, Stiles added, “I can handle any school payments and travel but I need a guardian to register me and provide proof of residence, and I can give you a copy of my passport for ID. May I please just have your help to enroll there?” Stiles finished.  
Amanita held back a smile. She shook her head.  
“Stiles,” she addressed him, “of course.”

Why had this old lady acted out of the absolute purest kindness of her heart, Stiles didn’t know. Even so, there was this unspoken, mutual agreement that Stiles would be helping Amanita in return. Small price for a huge favor.

Now, Stiles had to think about that passport. As far as Stiles knew, the school wouldn’t verify the passport’s authenticity. Especially not if it’s the same principal that Stiles had in his time. Even if they did, that doesn’t mean it would be verified right away. When schools verified birth certificates, they did them all at once and not necessarily at the beginning of school. Stiles only needed a short time to prevent Derek from getting close to Kate. Easy. All he had to do was create a fake ID.  
 _‘Wonder if I could get Yami to do it.’_

Daylight was disappearing as the sun dipped below the faraway mountain range.  
 _‘Night calls for rest,’_ Stiles thought.  
Amanita showed him to the spare room and laid out a sleeping mat for him with some blankets and a pillow. It took mere minutes before sleep overtook Stiles and he was passed out on the mat.

Eyes fluttered open and the incense of sandalwood was wafting through the slightly ajar door. Stiles frowned. Stiles remembered. This was now the second time he woke up forgetting that he was in the past.

Stiles opened his phone and there was a notification for mail on the lock screen. Sitting up steadily, Stiles went into his inbox and saw the email was from the company that he applied for. He smiled excitedly as he skimmed the text. His smile dropped.

Rubbing his head, Stiles switched off his phone and hunched his back as he leaned on his arms which rested on his thighs. Words like ‘not qualified’, ‘better candidate’ and ‘sorry’ ran through Stiles’ mind. It was a job for bloody bookkeeping! How could someone else be a ‘better candidate’?

Stiles walked into the living room and greeted Amanita, asking if he could borrow her bicycle. She told him to use the spare one, which was more suited to his size and he headed to Beacon Hills. Might as well explore to take his mind off things. Again. He really was too young to be putting up with so much cryptic supernatural stuff. The border was right near Amanita’s house, so it didn’t take long before Stiles was riding past a construction site, future Allison’s neighborhood, the school, the animal clinic.  
 _‘Hold on! Deaton must work there! More cryptic supernatural stuff. Yay.’  
_ Stiles halted.

Stiles pushed the door open and glance over the clinic, nodding to himself a bit. He sat in one of the chairs and thought about what he would say. Like…it’s Deaton…so he’ll probably believe Stiles when Stiles tells him that he time traveled. Stiles heard footsteps and Deaton spotted him as he walked past the door frame. Deaton came out of the room and stood behind the counter.  
 _‘Improvise like always, Stiles. This situation is one that you can’t ignore and let fester. Not this time. You’ve got this,’_ Stiles internally motivated himself.

“How can I help you?” Deaton asked.  
Without thinking, Stiles blurted out, “I time traveled.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so the first few chapters may bore you but updates will slow down in a few days thanks to school. Let's hope I can get to the interesting parts before then. I will still try to keep my updates fast when school starts, though.


	4. Collision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles agrees to start working for Deaton and Deaton agrees to help Stiles get into school.  
> On Stiles' way out of a store, he bumps into someone he can't place his finger on who they are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, not every chapter is going to involve Stiles falling asleep.

Stiles leaned against the examination table. Deaton was looking at him from across the table.  
“So you must know who I am. I’ve never come across time travel but I have heard of it.” Deaton gave him a hard look. “All of those cases were because of the person sent back in time; they were magical.”  
Stiles gave him a bewildered look. He gaped at him and bit the inside of his cheek.  
“That can’t be right. I’ve never…” Stiles trailed off.  
“It takes a trigger for the magic to become active. You take a human form,” Deaton profiled.  
“I’m not a banshee, not a werewolf or a were-anything, not a kitsune…not a wendigo or chimera,” Stiles added.

Deaton gave him a thoughtful look, “Perhaps you’re a demon.”  
Stiles frowned, “That doesn’t make sense, though. I can use mountain ash.”  
“Perhaps it’s something I haven’t heard of.”  
“Or…what if it was a spirit?”

Deaton looked at him cryptically.  
“What spirit?” Deaton asked.  
“A Nogitsune.”  
Deaton stared at Stiles. Neither of them said anything for a few moments. They just looked at each other.

Finally, Deaton said, “You should get rid of it. But it may be the only way for you to get back to your time. That or a magical being such as the Nogitsune…but Nogitsune don’t time travel. Can’t time travel.”

“I think,” Stiles theorized, “that I was sent back in time to save the Hale family from the fire since it wasn’t the Nogitsune. It must be the guardians.”  
“Yes,” Deaton said skeptically, “but…the guardians can see the timeline, including the future. It wouldn’t make sense for them to only take action now. How many years into the future are you?”  
“Eight,” Stiles answered.  
“Unless someone tampered with the guardians, which has never happened before,” Deaton shrugged, “it could be you.”

“I can assure you,” Stiles laughed, “I’m just the one addon of the pack that gets the research dumped on them since no one else can be bothered with it.”  
Deaton nodded slightly, “Time will tell. It’s the only thing I can think of. Time travel is according to the spirit. To tap into spirit, you have to have studied it for a while or you’re a little magical.”

An uncomfortable silence overtook the atmosphere around them. If it was according to the heart, did that mean that Stiles’ spirit wanted to save the Hale family? He sure as hell wasn’t thinking of the Hale fire when he was battling the Nogitsune.

“Even if you don’t think you’re magical, you should learn some magic – wards, runes,” Deaton advised Stiles.  
“Really?!” Stiles asked disbelievingly. “Oh my God, that would be awesome! Yes! Yes, I like your thinking.”  
Stiles started clapping. Deaton sighed.

“Well, then,” Deaton gave Stiles a smug look, “maybe you should start working here. Come in to feed the animals. It’s convenient so that we can meet regularly.”  
“Actually, yes. That would also be amazing. I need a job. Got to pay back Granny Amanita. Can I write down my contact info somewhere?” Stiles asked and looked around the room.  
All that was in the room were weird vials of stuff Stiles didn’t want to know of, dissection tools (any medical instrument looks like a dissection tool to Stiles) and other questionable things.

Deaton opened a drawer from the desk behind him and placed a pen and paper in front of paper.  
Stiles scribbled his email down and said, “I don’t think my phone number will work. I’ve had this email since I was like five, though. Young me only used it for game accounts. Just in case, the second email I’ve written down,” Stiles pointed to the email that read ‘kurlyfr13z@gmail.com’, “another account which I’ll make as soon as I get home.” Stiles’ eyes darted elsewhere as his eyebrows furrowed, “That is if someone doesn’t already have that email.”

Deaton took the paper and pen, putting them away.  
“Also, Stiles. Here’s homework: research runes. Come back next week, same day and same time as today.” Stiles glanced at the clock. “Runes were written for Icelandic, so you’ll start studying that next time.”  
Stiles grumbled, “Yay. Another language.”

“What’s your plan?” Deaton asked.  
Stiles stared at Deaton, expecting him to elaborate. Deaton stared at Stiles.  
“For?”  
Stiles motioned for Deaton to expand.  
“To save the Hale pack?”  
“Ah, that. I don’t want to get too close to them. We’ll probably meet in the future, and they’ll remember this kid that happens to have not aged at all. Don’t need word about time travel getting out to anyone. What if people come after me?”  
“They’d go after you if you’re magical. Are you beginning to doubt what you previously believed?”

Stiles narrowed his eyes at Deaton, “It’s just in case. I’m too young to die…and I’ve been kidnapped too many times. Incapacitated. Trapped. There was this darach that was sacrificing humans. Next thing I know, I’ll be kidnapped by fairies.” Stiles nodded to himself. “So yeah…I’m going to go to Beacon Hills High because that’s where I can _discreetly_ get close to Paige and Derek. Werewolf senses and crap,” Stiles mumbled.

“Birth certificate?” Deaton asked and raised his eyebrows in question.  
“They accept any form of ID. I’m forging one.”  
“The principal checks authenticity.”  
Stiles rubbed his nape, fingers threading through the short strands of hair.  
“Yeah, but…I was hoping that they wouldn’t check if it’s the same principal as I had. I’m risking it…”  
Stiles just realized how awful his plan was. He had one shot to get this right and he was going to risk something like that when he could do better. He slapped himself. Literally.

“So,” Stiles began, “I did have another idea. Marin Morrell, your sister. Does she have a master’s or bachelor’s degree in administration…” Stiles lolled his head to the side, “or educational leadership?”  
Stiles squinted and bit his lip.  
“You mean you want her to take over as principal?” Deaton inferred. Stiles pleaded with his eyes. “Shouldn’t be a problem. She’s coming to Beacon Hills soon anyway; I’m sure she can reschedule. I’ll let her in on your predicament.”

To get the current principal sacked, Stiles wasn’t sure how they would go about that but he had one idea. Stiles could tell that it wasn’t a very _ethical_ decision – Deaton’s probably scheming a plan like the Argents did to get Gerard as principal – but this is a matter of saving lives! Priorities, people! Priorities.

“Thanks, D.”  
“You have a place to stay?”  
“Yeah. In the next town, along the border. Also, what do I do about the Nogitsune?” Stiles recalled. “He’s not causing any trouble. In fact, he’s helping me.”  
Deaton stilled and with a serious tone, said, “It can’t be trusted. I can’t split you two either.”  
“Yeah, he said that he couldn’t even if he wanted. With the locked doors and mind and all.”

“Stiles, the Nogitsune is an illusionist. Anything you see in your mind could be his doing,” Deaton warned him.  
Stiles followed him as he walked back into the waiting area.  
“But I can alter it.”  
“It’s your mind so you still have control over it but the Nogitsune likely has stronger control over the mind with most people. The Nogitsune is a master of deception. Be careful.”  
Stiles nodded.

The park became familiar, the restaurants, coffee shops – they all came to Stiles as he figured out is way back to Amanita’s. He veered right, onto the path and walked the bicycle to Amanita’s garage. The ride was about 40 minutes and he absolutely refused to pedal an hour and 20 minutes to and from school every day once school started.

Stiles still had about five weeks before summer break ended. In that time, he would be studying supernatural magic crap (which happened to include another language, hooray), he’d be _bonding_ with (interrogating) the Nogitsune (another hooray), and he’d settle in at Amanita’s and help out around the property. He also needed to plot what he would do about Derek and Paige.

**_“Did you actually just go to Deaton?”  
_** Stiles jumped slightly.  
“Can you not do that?”  
 ** _“What am I supposed to do? Would you rather me talk your ear off 24/7?”  
_** Stiles sighed and didn’t answer Yami. He was told to not trust the Nogitsune. He probably would end up needing his help, though.

Stiles couldn’t see anything bad coming out of saving the Hale pack, though. Maybe something bad would happen in the future? But the Nogitsune wouldn’t know about that, they can’t see the future – especially if not even a time kitsune could see the future or time travel. So no.

Stiles doesn’t have to worry about the Nogitsune. The Nogitsune doesn’t have some evil scheme, or anything. No. For now, Stiles could study runes and a bit of Icelandic to get a head start.

Maybe not. In learning runes, Stiles would probably be translating texts to romanization which would be in Icelandic. He’d have to worry about transcribing the texts before translating Icelandic. As it turns out, there are three different types of rune languages: younger and elder Futhark and Medieval. Should he study the elder Futhark since it’s further into the past? Should he just study all three and put them all together into one big alphabet?

_‘That actually sounds like the best plan. Unless…’_ Stiles leaned back in the couch.  
 _“Yami, do you know runes?”  
 **“Maybe.”  
**_ Stiles shook his head and sighed, “I’ll take that as a yes?”  
 ** _“Maybe.”_**

****

Stiles scoffed, “Is there, like…some method where you can transfer your knowledge to me?”  
 ** _“There is…but I’m not sharing with you.”  
_** “Why not?!” Stiles yelled frustratedly.

“Stiles?”  
The teenager looked up with wide eyes and stared at Amanita over-intently.  
“Yes.” Stiles shook his head around to clear up. “Yes?” he tried again.  
Amanita worried, “You were talking to…yourself? Are you OK?”  
“Yeah, fine. Nothing to worry about,” he said choppily. “Having an internal war with myself.”  
“OK,” Amanita said unsurely. “Well, are you busy?”

Stiles cast a glance at Amanita’s computer. He’d need to clear that browsing history…and anything else he’d end up looking up later on.  
“I need to just finish something quickly but I’m free. Unless you need me now, that’s fine too,” Stiles added quickly.  
“It can wait until you’re done. I just need you to get some groceries from the Asian store.”  
“Sure. Where is it?”  
“Just down the road, it’ll be around the curve from the left,” Amanita gestured, facing the front of their house. “It’s near the Mexican store and French patisserie at the intersection. It’s Ms Chen’s. You can’t miss it. Here’s the list and money.”

“OK,” Stiles said.  
Amanita left and Stiles started thinking about her accent. He didn’t know why, it just really stuck out in that conversation. Maybe because their conversations were becoming more genuine and casual rather than either of them having to worry about what and what not to say. It was kind of like Kira, only…older. Like, in her late sixties or early seventies type of old. Amanita still had some black strands of hair but most of it had turned white and grey.

Damn, he got sidetracked again. Stiles needs his Adderall…and as soon as he had money, he would see a doctor and get a prescription for it. Stiles exhaled a breath, bringing himself out of his thoughts. Quickly, Stiles created the kurlfr13z account (not in use by anyone else). In the end, he decided to not clear the searches. He didn’t need to be so paranoid. It’s not like someone was spying on Stiles and was behind this time travel crap and so they found out about his studies and annihilated him before he became too powerful. OK, he really needs his Adderall.

Thanks to all the identical houses, Stiles paid close attention to the objects he passed. Torn shoes were dumped by the curb, there was a dead bird (which he’d rather not think about), there was also bags of rubbish by someone’s driveway. Then there was the intersection which wasn’t busy at all, excluding the occasional car.

The groceries bag was hanging off one of the handles of the bike, touching the front wheel every now and then. Stiles spotted Ms Chen’s across the road and waited for a couple of cars to pass before crossing on the bike. The shop sign was red and gold. Chinese owner? Most likely. Stiles tied a tautline hitch knot on the pole outside the Mexican store, briefly taking in a few inside features of the store as he passed it and pushed the door open to Ms Chen’s.

“Good afternoon! How are you?” the woman called from the counter with a heavy Asian accent (because Stiles can’t distinguish a Japanese accent from a Chinese accent, they sound the same).  
Stiles waved, “I’m good, thanks! How are you…Ms Chen?”  
“Yes, that’s me,” she said as she shelved some items behind her. “It’s much quieter than usual. Have you been here before?”  
Stiles shook his head.  
“No, I just moved here. I’m living with Ms Amanita.”

Ms Chen hummed, “Ah, yes!” Asian people seem to have a very sharp accent. Each consonant and vowel has their own spice, it seems. “Ms Amanita comes here regularly. Tell her she better keep coming, not send a messenger boy! You should both come. Are you a relative?”  
“Distant,” Stiles replied shortly.  
Distant, that is, if you believe in the theory of Adam and Eve. It’s just in the way you perceive it to call it out as a lie.

Stiles took out the phone and money, money folded in his palm. He did some searching. Red beans, black beans, noodles, sauces and so on. He put them all into the bag as he went along the aisles.

Ms Chen scanned the items as Stiles unpacked them, then having to repack them after he paid. Ms Chen handed him the receipt. He dropped the change into the bag and said goodbye to Ms Chen, promising he’d come back with Amanita next time.

Stiles pulled out the receipt out of habit. Ever since that once incident…  
Stiles seems to have a habit of colliding with people, because he slammed into a solid-hard chest, flailing as he tripped over their feet and almost knocked the other person down.

“Oh my God!” Stiles cried out as he stumbled. He steadied the stranger, hands lingering on the muscled shoulders longer than what was considered the social norm. Not that you should lay a hand on a stranger’s shoulder.  
“Watch where you’re going next time,” the person bit out venomously.  
“Right, sorry,” Stiles apologized, looking into the stranger’s eyes.  
And he felt like he knew them – like he recognized them. Another sense of déjà vu washed over him, same as when he saw the man at the library.

Stepping back, Stiles looked over who he bumped into. It was a boy in his teens. His face still held a bit of baby fat but the rest of him was buff. His hair was a dark brown and looked silky – Stiles was compelled to run his fingers through it. His shoulders were broad and he was the same height as Stiles. Even though they were the same height, Stiles felt like an ant at the foot of a giant.

The man bumped Stiles’ shoulder roughly as he passed him to leave.  
 _‘OK then. Either someone’s having a bad day or he has a stick permanently stuck in his ass.’  
_ Stiles puffed his cheeks as the man left, and he untied his bike. He could hear the Nogitsune’s evil laughter.  
“Damn fox, the hell are you laughing about?” Stiles grumbled.  
 ** _“You’ll find out eventually.”  
_** “OK.” Stiles shrugged. “Way to be ominous.”

The sun was steadily falling from its peak in the sky. Stiles cycled back to the house, following his notes of things he passed: dead bird, gross. By the time he got back, the sun was close to setting.

Stiles knocked on the door, sliding off his sneakers and putting them on the rack using his feet. Amanita opened the door and took the bad from Stiles, thanking him. It was official. Stiles wasn’t made for this…all this running around. He felt like flopping onto the bed, except he didn’t have a bed, but you know, he was always welcome to flop onto the floor and possibly break some bone in his face. Or bruise his knees. Or lose a toe nail. Or all three.

Stiles didn’t want that so instead, he lay face-down on the mat, face pressed into the pillow. He remained there for a bit before getting gup and offering to help Amanita with dinner. Chicken and black beans along with a bunch of vegetables that Stiles couldn’t identify, and sesame rice.

Amanita and Stiles chatted when they ate. They were sitting on cushions on the floor, traditionally.  
“Ms Amanita,” Stiles addressed her, “sorry to ask this but can I borrow some money so that I can get a SIM card?”  
“Sure.”  
“Thanks.”

Right, so Deaton was taking care of school.  
 _‘God, bless him,’_ Stiles thought gratefully.  
It was unbelievable how lucky he was. Plus, Deaton was teaching him ‘magic’. Whatever you’d call it. Stiles had a job, a soon-to-be-working phone, a _place to stay_ , and he was ready. He was ready. He could do this.

_‘I can do this,’_ Stiles encouraged himself.  
He switched off the light in the hallway and closed his door. No, he didn’t flop onto the mat this time, either. Stiles did, however, he did fall into an instantaneous sleep. This is how every night of his will end: him passing out with the inability to run on insubstantial energy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, not every chapter is going to involve Stiles falling asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles reviews his life in this time, gets down the basics of Icelandic, and has a phone number. Things are finally coming together.

“Stiles!” Amanita called from the kitchen. “Can you tidy up the dining area?”  
Stiles gave her a look.  
“I don’t understand,” he told her as he fixed the dining cushions back into place. “What’s the point in tidying it if it’ll just get messed up again?”  
Stiles constantly readjusted the tablecloth, going to all four sides to check the evenness.  
“Even when you know it’s no use, you still do it. That’s what it means to be a man.”  
“Right,” Stiles drawled.

Stiles had received an email yesterday from Deaton, mentioning payments and organizing the timetable. Today, he had gone to get a SIM card and decided to just give his number to Deaton when he’d see him tomorrow. For Stiles’ work hours, it was on Mondays, Tuesdays and Wednesdays and Thursdays from 1800 until 1900. He had to feed the animals and give them water. Why would it take an hour? There were a lot of animals. Then on Tuesdays and Wednesdays after work, Deaton would be teaching Stiles.

How were the runes coming along? Fine, except for the fact that it was written for more than just Icelandic, it was for all Germanic languages. What was the point of studying Icelandic if he knew English? That’s what Stiles had asked himself. Maybe it was Deaton’s idea of torture – not telling people that they’re wasting their time by doing something that he deceived them to believe is good but in actuality, it isn’t. Stiles was going to give Deaton a piece of his mind tomorrow.

_"Oi, Yami,”_ Stiles mentally called out. _“Help me out with this crap.”_ Stiles scrolled to the top of the site. Icelandic. What a pain.  
 ** _“You’re doing great,”_** the Nogitsune lazily encouraged him.  
 _“No. No, I’m not. I hate this. I’m still trying to learn Spanish! You know, the sooner I learn this the easier it’ll be for me to, like, fight things. If I die, you die.”  
 **“If that situation ever arises, I’ll tell you what you need to know.”  
** “Preparedness is a prerequisite for victory.”  
_Stiles heard Yami groan.

Then there was an ache in his head. Stiles clutched his head and keeled over in pain. He looked around. Everything was blurry. He couldn’t hear anything over the deafening ringing in his ears. And then it stopped all at once.

“What was that?” Stiles gasped.  
 ** _“The basics of Icelandic. Anymore than that, you would have passed out. I can only pass on small amounts at a time. So that’s all you’ll be getting until at least a few more days.”  
_** Stiles wasn’t sure he wanted a repeat of this but weirdly enough, he was thinking clearly. His mind wasn’t foggy as he’d expected it to be. If anything, it was clearer.

Stiles shook himself out of it. Refocusing on the webpage, he understood everything it was talking about. Everything. He moved through the next few courses. There were some pieces he didn’t know from Yami’s transfer. Only a few, though. One of the lessons, about eight lessons after, he couldn’t understand at all. He picked up his pencil and put his head down to work.

The cage rattled a bit with the tapping of claws. Stiles had a gloved hand inside, scratching behind the ear of a dog and cleaning out the cage, putting the waste into a garbage bag and going over it with a damp rag. Stiles closed the latch on the cage door and moved to the entrance of the room. He pulled off his right glove with his left one and turned the knob. He disposed of the garbage and gloves outside.

In Deaton’s work room, Stiles rinsed his hands in the sink. “So how are the runes coming along?” Deaton asked as he flicked through some paperwork.  
Stiles glared at him over his shoulder. He turned off the tap and wiped his hands on his shirt.  
“You never told me that it included Icelandic – that there was another language!” Stiles complained.  
“Oh, well. You survived, didn’t you?” Deaton said nonchalantly. “That’s what counts the most.”

Stiles glared at him. “On another note,” Deaton said, putting away the papers, “I’ve got good news. Marin has agreed to help. She’ll be arriving in Beacon Hills soon.”  
“That’s good. School’s starting in a few weeks. How _are_ you planning on taking position?”  
Stiles squinted at Deaton suspiciously.  
“You don’t want to know.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. He pulled out his phone and unlocked it. He viewed his number and said, “I set up my number before coming here. Phone? Or paper?”  
Deaton pulled out his phone and Stiles handed him his one. Deaton copied the number into his phone. Stiles’ phone buzzed with a message.  
 _‘Man, it feels nice to be getting these things out of the way,’_ Stiles thought.

Deaton and Stiles had gone over the runes, earning a surprised reaction from Deaton when Stiles had the fluency in the basics. “This is a surprise. Didn’t know you’d studied so much,” Deaton said, eyeing him.

Stiles didn’t mention his interaction with the Nogitsune. Deaton would scold him for it and Stiles didn’t want to put up with that right now. He just wanted this to be over. He wanted to go home and crush his father and friends in one big group hug. Then he wanted to crawl under his blankets and roll himself up into a burrito. Only then would he deal with the Nogitsune if some natural force hadn’t already. “Ouch, Deaton. That hurt my feelings,” Stiles said seriously.  
Deaton blinked at him. He shook his head.

Stiles only laughed in return, gathering all the work and sliding it into his bag. He waved goodbye to Deaton, shutting the door behind him as he left. This time didn’t suck too much. If anything, it was great. Sure, he had gotten off to a bad start when he woke up without a clue in the world until _the Nogitsune_ told him. Then he slept in an alley and walked for over an hour until he ran into a poor old lady. But that was when things took a turn for the good and honestly, things could have gone _much_ worse.

Stiles felt confidence that he could deal with this. He could do this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't mean for this to take so long, but a lot of school work, and I mean a LOT of work, came up. I had a digital technology project where I had to create a game. I've been invited to give a speech for TED Ed. Some other things too which I can't be bothered to mention but I finally found the time during this isolation to write another chapter. Sorry it's so short! I can't say how soon the next update will be.
> 
> Anyway, the next chapter will start to set things off and the plot will finally take off.


	6. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marin arrives, and some insight on Derek.

I tossed the last item – a round of ammunition – into the duffel bag and zipped it closed. Now that everything’s packed, it’s time to load it into the car and head off. It was a three – maybe four-hour drive.

Last week, I sent through my application for teaching at Beacon Hills High. Yesterday, they sent through an email to notify me that I was accepted. Not that I would take rejection for an answer. I’d force my way in – take out the principal if I had to.

The pack won’t last. This is the job. We protect those who can’t protect themselves. I’d say “watch out”, but there’s no fun in revealing your hiding spot. Oh, well. “Watch out,” I said with a smirk. “Time to eradicate the Hale pack.”

“Deaton, I swear to God! I’m not…I’m not touching that!” Stiles yelled, pointing at the packet. “Where…where did you even get that?!”  
“Stiles,” Deaton said in a threatening tone. Deaton held up the packet of menstrual blood. “This is needed for the ritual.”  
Stiles shook his head with wide eyes.  
“I’m sure that this warding isn’t necessary.”  
Deaton squinted at him.  
“Fine,” he said. He dropped the packet onto the bench. “Don’t complain to me if you get kidnapped by a Chupacabra.”

Stiles threw his hands up frustratedly. “I don’t get it! Doesn’t the Chupacabra drink blood?” Stiles asked.  
“Not menstrual,” Deaton replied. “Look…”

The phone started ringing. Deaton hesitated before picking up. It was after hours, but perhaps it was an emergency. Deaton asked how he could help. “It’s Marin,” said the voice on the line.  
Deaton looked up at Stiles.  
“Marin, are you here?” Deaton questioned.  
“About a mile away from your work,” she answered. “Meet me outside.”

The phone beeped, signaling the end of the call. “Marin wants us to meet her outside. Come on.”  
When Deaton had his back turned, Stiles cheered silently, throwing his arms around. Clang! Stiles but his lip and straightened up, wearing the least guilty-looking face he could. Deaton calmly turned to Stiles with a raised brow.  
“That wasn’t me,” Stiles said innocently.  
“No.” Deaton frowned. “It must’ve been a rat,” he said, playing along.

Marin arrived right on the dot as they walked out to the front. She parked parallel to them and got out of the car after popping the back hood. “Here’s my stuff. I’ll be staying with you for however long this takes,” she said, lugging her bags with her. “Help me with the rest of it.”  
Stiles and Deaton walked over to the boot of the car and were met with another four bags. They looked at each other before picking up the “deadlift bags”.

“I’ll be taking care of the principal tomorrow,” Marin told them as they all sat in the waiting room. They had gone over the time travelling incident, not bothering to suggest any other possible reasons for it. “Is there anyone I should keep an eye out for, Stiles?”  
Stiles perked up and replied, “Yes. Her name’s Kate. Kate Argent.” Deaton and Marin shared a look. “I don’t know if she’s in Beacon Hills yet. In the future, the Argent family moves to Beacon Hills. That’s another…fifteen or whatever years away, though. But I know that Kate was Derek’s girlfriend,” Stiles grimaced at that word, “and she was a teacher there.”

Marin nodded and said, “Got it.”

The blade glinted as it was twisted with what little light there was. The squirming on the seat across from her shook the car slightly. “I really don’t want to do this. I’m not the type of person to do this…but lives are at stake.” Marin looked her victim in the eyes.

His screams were muffled by the gag, and he was tied up securely, body lying on the leather seats. “Resign,” Marin commanded. “Give up your position. Don’t speak a word of this to anyone or…” Marin pulled a photo out of her pocket.

“This is your wife and son,” she said with a sadistic smile. She heard him desperately sobbing as they were mentioned. She showed the picture to him. “Tell anyone, actually. Just know that I have a friend keeping an eye on them, and tell anyone, they’ll die. I’ll make sure of it. Understand?”  
The principal nodded as best as he could, tears pouring out of his eyes and wetting the seat beneath his head.

Marin untied him, knife pointed at him, daring him to try anything. “I’ll find you to check up on that paperwork. Try anything, and you’ll find two lifeless corpses.” Once he left, she exhaled a long breath. “Come on,” she muttered to herself. “As if I would hurt them.”

“Derek.”  
Derek lifted his head from the table tiredly.  
“Yes, Mom?” he said.  
His mother, Talia, placed the chef’s knife on the chopping board.  
“I’m running low on some ingredients. Can you quickly run up to the Mexican store and get some Chile peppers and avocadoes?”  
“Sure,” he grumbled.  
Derek grabbed a bag and left.

Perhaps this would be good for him. He could just take a walk and clear his head. Derek and his girlfriend had recently had an argument. An argument about the fact that Derek hadn’t told her what happened at the warehouse the previous night. They were making out. Then Paige said that she doubted Derek’s reason for loving her. Before Derek could finish his retort, he smelled blood. He smelled torture. He smelled death.

Derek was thankful they had fled before the packs had arrived. He didn’t know what he’d do if Paige found out about him and broke up with him. However, now they were separated because of a quarrel and their relationship was strained. After all, relationships are built on trust.

Before he knew it, he was standing to the side of the driveway by the small grocery shops. He rounded the corner and stopped before the Mexican shop, then walking inside. Derek hastily fetched and paid for the items, wishing to avoid conversation.

_‘I wish Paige would just trust me on this. That she shouldn’t know,’_ Derek thought and ran a hand through his hair in irritation. He walked out of the store, turned the corner without looking, and collided with someone.

It was a guy. A skinny, lanky guy with messy, brown hair and a slightly upturned nose. “Oh my God!” he shouted. They placed their hands on Derek’s shoulders to steady him. Not that he needed it. The stranger straightened up. He finally retracted his hands. He looked at Derek. Derek decided he didn’t like it. He didn’t like the way those eyes looked at him with familiarity. It was unusual and unsettling.  
“Watch where you’re going next time,” Derek bit out.  
“Right, sorry,” they apologized.  
Derek payed him no mind and walked past him, roughly bumping into him.

This was not the right time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figured a short chapter was better than having to wait longer.


End file.
